The wail of the widow, the orphan's cries,
Will no longer disturb thy pillow;
Nor the voice of a brother's blood arise,

From the slain cast out on the billow.

Nor he, who through danger and death has toil'd, Shall curse thee with frantic emotion;

Ne'er by thee of his fortune and freedom spoil'd, While peacefully ploughing the ocean.

For thine is a higher and holier strife,
More splendid the prize set before thee,
The warfare is now for eternal life,

With the shield of Omnipotence o'er thee.

More dread was the conflict than mortal fight,
More strength than a warrior's granted;
The duty was done with a Christian's might,
And his banner was bravely planted.

More bravely than his for lucre unfurl'd,
Emblazon'd in blood and false glory;
For thine is a victory over the world,
And a theme for an angel's story.

W. C.

E

VOICES FROM SLAVERY,

Written on reading a Paper by Joseph Sturge, on the aggravated Horrors of the Slave-trade.-October 1848.

I. CAPTURE AND EMBARKATION.

HARK! to the cry from Afric's shore,
The mingled sound of strife and battle;
The prisoners come,

Behold their doom;

A wretched drove of human cattle!

Sold for a draught of liquid fire!
Bartered for toys, that hapless band!
Oh, who can know

The depth of woe

That fills each heart along the strand?

Now packed like bales of senseless ware,
Within the vessel's murky hold;

Close, closer still

They cram, they fill

Oh guilt enormous! crimes untold!

II. MISERIES AT SEA.

Hark! to the sound that comes from far,
Borne o'er the waves in utterance low;
Deep stifled moans,

And dying groans:

That living freight of human woe!

Now the full vessel courts the wind,
O'er swelling seas they swiftly go;
And fever burns

And pity spurns

The palpitating mass below!

But death in mercy thins the ranks ;
Pulse after pulse forgets to beat—
They gasp, they die

In agony

In quenchless thirst, and maddening heat!

III. LANDING IN THE WEST INDIES.

Hark! to the plaint from yonder shore,
A voice of woe, and helpless wailing-
They land, they land

On foreign strand,

Gaunt, trembling forms, in weakness failing!

And now a transient dream of rest,
Ere to the human shambles driven;
They feed them well,

To make them sell

Oh, mockery of mercy given!

Soon as returning health appears,
To raise the feeble, nerve the strong,
Away, away—

In sad array

With whip and menace urged along.

IV.-SLAVE MARKET.

Hark! to the wail from yonder mart, The tale of grief and anguish spoken; Heart torn from heart

Friends sold apart―

And every tie of Nature broken!

Husbands and wives to meet no more!

Children from Parents forced to sever! For paltry gold,

To bondage sold,

Beyond the reach of hope for ever!

Oh piteous sight! oh hapless throng!
Is there no mercy strong to save?
Must thousands die

In Slavery

Their only freedom in the grave?

V.-SLAVE LABOUR.

Hark! to the voice from yon fair land, Where all the sweets of Nature grow: Who tills the soil

With grief and toil?

The wretched Slave! the child of woe!

His tyrant-master goads him on-
He knows no sweets, he feels no rest;
But whip and chains,

And festering pains,

But mock the anguish of his breast!

Bowed down beneath the galling yoke, Scorned and reviled, he longs to die; But months and years,

'Mid groans and tears,

Drag on in sad captivity!